One Of These Nights
by kclaura2003
Summary: In the autumn of 1975, a depressed Vietnam vet finds a friend and maybe something more in a sweet, yet lonely farmer's daughter while living with his formerly abusive, recently handicapped father. Bethyl, AU.
1. Dust In The Wind

**Hello! Thanks for checking out my new chapter story. :)**

**This is an idea I've had in my head since like April/May of this year and all summer long I've been debating with myself, should I post it, should I not? Will people like it? Will they hate it? So I'm finally just deciding to "throw it out" here and I'm hoping for the best. It will be a slow Bethyl burn and for right now it's rated T for references to war violence, suicide and depression themes, some language, some childhood abuse will be eventually referred to. It will be a little heavy but not too dark. Feedback is always appreciated!**

**I do not own The Walking Dead.**

Chapter One: Dust In The Wind

_ August 1975_

This was the fourth time he was circling this road.

Daryl Dixon knew he should be getting home, his father, Will, would be expecting him.

Staring at the darkening sky through the windshield of his light blue Ford pickup, he figured it was about 8:45. That was one of the few things he picked up from his service in the Army, the ability to know the time without looking at a clock.

His dog tags rocked gently back and forth dangling from the rear view mirror. Daryl glanced at the little metallic tags swinging there and quickly turned his eyes back to the road. Sometimes he got an impulse desire to roll down the window and chuck them out but he never did. He kept them. Not as a reminder, no, he'd always remember. There were plenty of people in town that would never let him forget anyway. Funny thing was, they always were usually the people who understood the least about what he went through; what any of the guys that went over there went through. Nobody couldn't even begin to understand. Truth was: nobody cared enough to even try to understand.

Daryl reached down and flipped on the lights. He was rounding the last bend when a Dodge Charger appeared in his headlights, taking the corner way too fast, causing Daryl to swerve sharply to the right to avoid a head on collision. The driver of the hot rod laid on the horn, as if Daryl were the one at fault, and in the rear view mirror he saw the driver of the Charger give the finger as they sped out of sight.

Daryl reached in his shirt pocket and pulled a cigarette out the pack. Pressing the cigarette between his lips, he fumbled around for his Zippo lighter but he could not control his trembling fingers. The near wreck shook him but each time he went to light a smoke to calm his nerves, it was _the_ trigger. A strange trigger but it took him back nonetheless. His hand was trembling so hard, he ended up dropping the cigarette back into his shirt pocket.

He put the truck back in drive and continued down the road, increasing his speed. Will was waiting on him.

He came to the end of the road but there at the intersection, he saw a figure walking along the side.

Daryl slowed down and glancing through the passenger window, he saw who he recognized to be local veterinarian Hershel Greene's youngest daughter. Her long blonde hair was done up in a ponytail and it bounced from side-to-side as she walked, or more like stomped along the road. Her hands were balled up into fists, her shoulders tensed up and hunched forward.

He didn't have any doubt she was visibly upset about something but if he did he would definitely know now the way she turned to look at his vehicle approaching. Even in the night sky, he could see her green eyes flash angrily, her nostrils flaring, her mouth a tight thin pink line.

She glared at him at first and then her face seem to relax, as if at first she thought it were somebody else pulling up along side her, that somebody she was pissed at, Daryl guessed.

He put the truck in park, reached over and rolled down the window.

"Need a ride?" He asked.

She hesitated for a minute, sighed, and climbed in.

**…**

Beth was her name, he remembered now. Her family lived just off a dirt road in a white farmhouse with a green roof. He realized he knew more about her family in general than he really knew about her. He had met her a few times in passing, everybody knew everybody in their small Georgia town. Her older sister caused a bit of a stir among the gossipers when she married an Asian man a year ago.

Parked near the car port of her house, in the dim light from the porch lamp, he could now tell she had been crying before he picked her up, streaks of mascara stained her cheeks.

She sniffled and whimpered some, but she kept biting her bottom lip and was trying to keep whatever, _whoever_ it was that had ruined her night to herself.

Daryl preferred it that way. It made him feel insensitive but he wouldn't know what to say or do to make her feel any better. He was a groundskeeper; not a counselor.

He reached over to the glove compartment, making her jump a little bit, opened it up and pulled out a handkerchief.

She tentatively took it, muttered a "Thanks", and blew her nose loudly with it.

"Are you OK?" Daryl asked, although he knew the answer.

Clearly she was not OK and he couldn't help but take notice some of the buttons on her blouse were not fastened to the correct holes as if she had buttoned it up in a hurry.

Beth folded the handkerchief over and wiped her eyes with it, leaving black streaks on the white cloth.

"Yeah," Her voice cracked when she replied. "I will be,"

She looked up and offered the handkerchief back but he gestured for her to keep it.

"Thanks," She said, shyly as she opened the truck door. "For the ride."

Daryl nodded.

He watched her walk up on the wrap around porch and disappear through the kitchen door, not stopping once to glance back. He figured she felt embarrassed, the thought of somebody she barely knew seeing her such a wreck.

**…**

Will was up waiting for him, just like Daryl expected. His father was parked in front of the grainy television set watching the NBC Saturday Night Movie. Daryl could feel his father's gray eyes on him, watching him through his Coke bottle glasses. Will turned his wheelchair around so he was facing his younger son, and rolled a little bit forward.

"Y' been out all night again?" Will's voice was a lot like Merle's, Daryl's always absent older brother: thick and raspy.

Daryl scoffed as he hung his keys on the nail by the door. His dad picked weird times to actually act and sound like a real father, always had.

"What am I?" Daryl asked, rhetorically. " A sixteen year old girl?"

Will snorted. "Sixteen year old girl probably got more sense than y'do sometimes. Y'know, ya gonna wear that truck out…way you drivin' it 'round in circles like y'do. And gas ain't cheap these days neither."

Daryl rolled his eyes and shook his head. The truck was only three years old. The first and only thing he ever bought brand new.

"Yeah, OK, Dad." Daryl replied, flippantly. He was too tired to argue about nothing with his old man.

He toed off his boots and began to unbutton his sleeveless shirt as he crossed the living room, stopping to pick up the empty plate of food Daryl made for Will earlier that evening.

"There ain't shit on tonight…" Will complained, scowling at the TV.

"Why don'tcha just go to bed then?" Daryl suggested as he carried the plate into the kitchen. He could hear the wheels of his father's chair rolling on the hardwood floor as Will trailed behind him.

"'Cause you'd like that too much, wouldn't ya?" Will said, cutting edge to his tone.

Daryl turned and raised an eyebrow at his father. They stared at one another for a second, both of them silently daring the other one to say something, do something. He was baiting him, Daryl knew. His father was damn good at it. But not tonight. Daryl wasn't going to take the bait.

He refocused his attention back to the plate, which was now rinsed clean but it gave him an excuse to not have to keep direct eye contact with his father.

Will slowly backed up in his chair and mumbled he was getting sleepy after all.

Daryl dropped the plate in the dish rack and watched his father roll down the narrow hallway to his bedroom. The chair could make it through, only it took some tricky maneuvering, and Daryl noticed his father was having trouble rounding the corner into his bedroom. He came up behind, gripped the handles of the chair and despite his father's ornery protests that "he could do it himself", Daryl helped push his father through the door frame.

Will didn't need any help emptying his bladder bag, Daryl was thankful for at least that much. He helped his father get undressed and into bed although he was fully capable of doing both tasks independently.

"What am I?" Will asked, echoing the same sarcastic tone Daryl used earlier. "A baby? Y'gonna tuck me and a read me a bedtime story while you're at it?"

Daryl patted his father's balding head, patronizingly, knowing how much he hated that.

"Night, Dad." He simply replied.

Will pulled the covers up to his chin.

"Night, night , son." He yawned.

**…**

That night in bed, Daryl lay wide awake on his back staring up at the ceiling. The tiny oscillating fan did nothing to help cool him off. He listened to the sound of the cicadas chirping outside and his father snoring in the other room. He kicked off the thin sheet, it was too damn hot for any sheets, and forced his eyes shut.

His mind wandered back to the Greene girl he picked up and he thought about her now. He wondered if Beth was lying in her bed, wide awake as well. Was her mind spinning like his was, trying to make sense of life and where it was going? He kept wondering what she doing out there. He pictured the Charger that ran him off the road; it had nearly collided with him. He thought about the irony of it all. He survived a year in that shit-hole jungle only to come home and almost be killed by some asshole in a hot rod.

He wished he never made it back from over there. He knew he lived a sad existence, a sad excuse of a childhood, if he would have rather died in a war-torn third world country than to come back to this.

He reached down, slipped his hand underneath the mattress and felt for the .38 Special he kept hidden from his father. It belonged to Will; he used to shoot it inside their old house, the one that Daryl's mother accidentally set fire to and died in. Daryl felt cold of the barrel on his fingertips. He slid his hand further down, found the grip and slowly pulled it out. He fiddled with it for a little bit, flicking the cylinder open and shut. There was one round in the chamber. He cocked the hammer; the cylinder spun and came to stop. He placed the nuzzle next to his temple, his index finger wrapped around the trigger and squeezed.

He pictured for a brief moment if his father would hear the gunshot, the old fool slept like a baby. Daryl imagined Will hollering for him, first thing he did whenever he woke up, and then he'd start cussing and grumbling when there would be no response. Will would eventually get up, get half-dressed, climb into his chair and roll into his youngest son's bedroom and find him dead inside his bed; blood and brains splattered on the headboard and the yellowing wallpaper behind him.

What Will would do next, Daryl wasn't sure. He'd tell the authorities: "I never saw that coming!" Or maybe: "He seemed fine to me last night…" but more than likely Daryl guessed the only question his father would have would be: "Well, who's gonna take care me of now?"

It all didn't matter, though. The gun clicked and Daryl opened his eyes.

It wasn't the first time he'd played this game. Twice before he did not get the bullet and figured third time was the charm but still here he was. He knew eventually he was going to pull the trigger and it was going be for keeps; there wasn't going to be another time.

But it's not gonna be tonight, he thought.

He let the gun drop to the hardwood floor with a small thud.

He felt something warm and wet roll down his cheek and thought it was sweat from his brow but when Daryl went to wipe it away, he realized it was a single tear.


	2. You've Got A Friend

**Thank you for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! **

**"You've Got a Friend" by James Taylor.**

Chapter Two: You've Got a Friend

It was a freak accident.

Daryl would never forget the day he opened a letter from his uncle while on R&R in a base camp six years ago in 1969.

"_Dear Daryl:_

_It's your Uncle Jess here. Hope this letter finds you safe and well. There is something you should know. _

_Your father was doing some work on the house, trying to fix the storm drain and fell off the ladder. He's going to be OK but he's done serious damage to his spinal cord. He told me he lay in the yard for hours, unable to feel anything below his waist. Finally, somebody called the police and an officer by the name of Rick Grimes showed up and was able to get Will to the hospital in Peachtree. They contacted Merle but he referred them to me. I told the doctors where you are and your service should be about up. _

_I hate to have to tell you this, Daryl. I know you're far away from home in that shithole over there and this is just another worry to add on top of all your other worries. I'm sorry. I just thought you should know. Your dad is going be OK. You know what a tough son-of-a-bitch he is. But I'm afraid he's going to be in a chair for the rest of his life from now on. _

_My job has already granted me some extra leave to for me to stay here in the first few weeks he comes home. Merle called and told me he's on his way but I told Barbara I think its best that I stay here in Senoia for a while. I don't think the two of them alone together would work out too good._

_Take care, Daryl, and know that we love you; we're thinking about you and praying for you. _

_Take Care, _

_Jesse_

It was ironic to Daryl how much he was like his father's brother. In a way, Will and Jesse were just like him and Merle: a wild, instigator older brother and a reliable, subdued younger brother.

Jesse was right: it was a bad idea to leave Will and Merle in the same house together without somebody there to referee. Jesse told Daryl through another letter that the minute Merle saw Will in the chair, he burst out laughing.

_Will went apeshit on Merle… _Jesse wrote. _Merle took one look at your dad, got right up in his face and said: "Betcha ya don't feel so high and mighty now?" Will spat a wad of chew at him and it was on after that. Will was throwing anything he could get his hands on: newspapers, the TV guide, empty and not empty Mason jars, Copenhagen cans, you name it. Merle was blocking all the shots easily, laughing so crazily…I don't think that's normal, Daryl. I get more and more concerned for Merle each day. Of course, I'm just as concerned for you over there but I know despite everything your dad put you two boys through I know you'd never mock your father like that. It's just cruel…and I know he was cruel to y'all growing up…and my biggest regret, honestly, was not being there for you both…but that's another can of worms. Merle started punching on Will and I had to pull him off, not without a fight of course. Merle took off again but don't worry, I'm still here. _

_Barbara and the kids understand, I'll know you'll be home soon enough and I pray that you are, Daryl. But don't think it's just so I'll be free to go back home, it's because I want you back safe and sound. They should have brought all you boys back safe and sound a long time ago. _

_Take Care,_

_Jesse_

"I didn't want to tell ya all that," Jesse admitted, on the car ride home from the Atlanta airport. "I felt shitty enough as it was…I didn't want to burden you any more than ya already were. I'm sorry, Daryl."

Daryl could only nod his head as he watched the pine trees and sprawling farmland zip by in the passenger window.

"Don't be, Jess," He muttered, quietly, but loud enough his uncle heard it.

In the last six months Daryl had in the Army, Jesse Dixon took emergency leave from work and drove the 170 miles between Tifton up to Senoia, temporary leaving his wife and kids to care for his estranged and now paraplegic brother. He was also the only one to write Daryl faithfully the whole year he was in Vietnam and the one to meet him at the airport coming home. Jesse Dixon was a saint; Daryl was sure of it. He couldn't count the many times he'd wished he could have been Jesse's son.

**…**

The Horvath Funeral Home was run by old man named Dale Horvath. He had penchant for wearing a fishing cap and Hawaiian shirts and Daryl found the facial expressions the older man made more entertaining than anything on TV. Although he was clearly a hard-core pacifist, maybe even been a demonstrator in some of the war protests, he seemed to sympathize with Daryl's inability to find a job and gave him one as a groundskeeper for the cemetery.

By 4:30 on Monday afternoon, Daryl finished his duties. It was a light load that day, Daryl was happy for. He didn't mind doing hard work. but it was one of those days when he just wanted to go home, take care of whatever Will needed, lock himself in his bedroom and drink. If he felt up to it, he'd play another round of Russian roulette. Maybe he'd win this time. Or lose, as most people would consider it.

After putting up the riding mower he stepped inside the home looking for Dale to let him know he was done for the day. Daryl peeked inside his boss' office and the older man wasn't there. He decided to wait in the parlor. Before he sat down on the couch, he heard piano music coming from the funeral service room.

There weren't any scheduled funerals today, Daryl always knew about those in advance. Daryl walked to the sliding stained glass door and listened to the muffled sound of somebody, a girl, singing and playing. He slowly slid the door open and found himself staring at the back of a girl sitting at the piano, her straight blonde hair cascading down to her waist.

I'll be damned, Daryl thought. It's that Greene girl, again. What's she doing here?

"When you're down and troubled," Beth sang softly. "And you need a helping hand and nothing, whoa, nothing is going right/Close your eyes and think of me and soon I will be there/to brighten up even your darkest nights…"

Daryl tried to hold back the smile spreading on his face at her odd song choice but he couldn't. Her voice was pleasant but unique.

"You just call out my name and you know wherever I am/I'll come running to see you again/Winter, spring, summer or fall/All you have to do is call and I'll be there/Yeah, yeah, you've got a friend…"

Her voice cracked on "friend" and she abruptly stopped playing, making a sour note on the keys. Beth solemnly closed the piano lid, put her elbow on it and rested her chin in her hand, still unaware of Daryl's presence. She seemed troubled, although not as troubled as she was two nights ago when he gave her a ride home.

Daryl decided to do something he rarely ever did: break the ice.

He cleared his throat and said: "That's not a typical funeral song."

Beth's back straightened and she dropped her arm off the piano lid. She slid her legs around the side of the bench, turned her body and faced him more surprised than embarrassed that somebody had been listening to her sing.

"Oh my gosh," She began. "I had no idea anybody else was in here. Mr. Horvath said he'd back in five minutes but that was like twenty minutes ago now and…"

Her eyes squinted at him and she grew very still and quiet. She recognized him now as the guy that picked her up.

"Oh, hello there…again," She said sheepishly.

She fidgeted on the bench, looked down and away and anxiously tugged on the hem of her yellow mini-skirt.

Daryl shifted from one foot to the other wondering why this was his second time running into this girl and always under awkward circumstances.

"Is there anything_ I_ can help you with?" Daryl asked, still wondering what business she had doing there.

Beth shook her head no and kept smoothing out her skirt and picking at what Daryl figured were imaginary loose threads; she was doing everything she possibly could to avoid eye contact with him.

He wondered if somebody told her where to find him and she came there looking to explain what happened that night. She didn't owe him an explanation, as far as he was concerned it was none of his business.

"Look, uh," Daryl began. "About the other night…if you're here because of that…" He trailed off hoping he didn't have to say anymore hoping she would get it.

Beth slowly lifted her chin up and met his eyes.

She opened her mouth to say something but then her eyes drifted to focus on something behind him.

Daryl felt a hand on his shoulder. He knew it was Dale, he had a tendency of doing that, and every time it made Daryl want to jump out of his skin.

"Daryl, there you are, my boy," Dale said. He saw spotted Beth sitting at the piano and glanced back and forth between them.

"Oh, I see you've met Beth Greene." Dale commented. "She's our new make-up artist."

Daryl wrinkled his brow. "Make-up artist?" He repeated, still looking at Beth.

"Yeah," Dale went on. "Don't you remember? It was Amy Harrison before but she's moving to Jacksonville for college. You know of her older sister, Andrea, right? One of the only few female lawyers in the Atlanta area…."

Dale waved his hands. "Well, enough about all that." He glanced back to Beth to indicating he was talking to both of them now.

"You two done for the day?"

"Yes," Daryl and Beth replied simultaneously. They both exchanged glances at each other but Dale remained oblivious to the fact they already knew each other.

Dale smiled. "That's good. Well then, you're both free to go! Daryl, I'll see you back here bright and early at 7:30 tomorrow. Beth, come in around 9'o clock and we'll get you started."

Dale left and the amount of awkwardness there was hanging in the air before intensified.

Daryl shot her a look_: You're gonna be working here now?_ and he knew Beth read his face because she bit her lip and playfully shrugged her shoulders in response.

Daryl sighed, a little louder than he meant to.

"I guess I'll see you around," Daryl said to Beth, although he doubted it. He would be working mostly outside while she worked indoors.

He turned to leave.

"Wait," She called after him.

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "What is it?"

When she didn't respond right away he reluctantly turned and faced her. Beth was still on the piano bench, sitting on her hands, her long legs swinging back and forth. She was making eye contact with now, probably the most she had ever made during their few interactions.

"What?" Daryl pressed.

Beth twirled a lock of hair around her finger.

"Would you, um,…." She began.

He was becoming impatient. He was going to walk away if she didn't hurry up and spit it out.

"Would you, um…like to go get a coffee with me?"

Daryl blinked. He heard her clearly but found it difficult to believe anybody would want go anywhere with him.

"At the corner diner on Main Street," Beth said. "I just thought, you know…we could sit and talk for a little bit. If you have the time."

Daryl thought of his father. Will was classified as a T6 paraplegic. Anything below the waist was dead but he was fully capable of doing most things on his own. It wasn't that he needed Daryl; he just thought he did. Daryl thought of himself. He wasn't in the mood for this.

She was staring at him now, her face starting to cloud with disappointment at his no-response.

Daryl sighed. He briefly thought about Will one more time. He met Beth's gaze. He couldn't turn down that face.

"OK," He finally answered . "Let's go."

**…**

Daryl wasn't sure if it was the open atmosphere of the diner or what it was but something made Beth more talkative to him than she had been in their previous encounters.

Stirring another cream in her coffee she simply said:

"It was my boyfriend."

Swallowing down a gulp of scalding hot liquid, Daryl looked over the rim of his cup at her, sitting across from him in the booth.

Beth gazed out the window as she went on.

"We had a fight. It got so bad he just dumped me right there on the side of the road. Took off like it was nothing."

Daryl wrinkled his brow. What asshole dumps a girl on the side of the road? He thought. Apparently the one she had been with.

"Does he drive a Charger?" Daryl asked, bitterly.

Beth turned her attention from the window back to Daryl.

"Yeah," She answered, surprised. "How do you know that?"

"Because the son of a bitch ran me off the road," Daryl blurted. "That was before I saw you."

Beth shook her head.

"Yeah, that's Jimmy for ya,"

Daryl scoffed. "Yeah, well, next time you see _Jimmy_," Daryl spat the name. " You tell him he's a prick for me."

Beth giggled.

Daryl shot her a look and she waved him off. She covered her mouth but he could tell she was still smiling. He felt his heart skip a beat, again. There was something about how he could make her smile that made him feel good inside. He sheepily smiled back at her.

"I'm sorry," Beth said, waving her hands. "I know it's not funny…but yeah, sure, I'd love to tell him that for you. But the truth is…"

She trailed off and grew sober again.

"The truth is," She said, softly. "I'm not gonna see him anymore. We're over. I knew it was coming anyway. He's moving to Athens next week."

She grew quiet and rested her head on her hand like she did on piano at the funeral home.

A curtain of golden hair covered her arm as she propped it on the table. Daryl wanted reach out and touch it but he repressed the urge as quickly as he felt it. There was something unique about this girl. He was getting feelings he didn't normally have for any other girl and he wasn't sure what to do with them.

He shifted anxiously in his seat. He thought about telling her she was better off without that guy who dumped her but Daryl knew Beth was smart; she knew that already.

She spoke again as if reading his mind:

"It's not that I'll miss Jimmy." She said, biting her bottom lip. "Well, I will and I won't. It's just that…all my friends are gone now. Jimmy and I are over. Amy's moving to Florida. A bunch of other girls I know from school are engaged…or they're just going for one or two semesters of college to get a M.R.S. degree."

She rolled her eyes at that.

"And here I am. I was going to go the junior college but I'm not even ready for that. I don't know what I want to do."

Daryl nodded.

"It's normal," He answered. "There's nothing wrong with taking some time off. Figuring out what you do want."

He didn't know why he said that. He felt hypocritical, giving this girl life advice when he had been thinking about ending his for months.

Beth smiled.

"I'm glad you agreed to come here with me."

"Why?" Daryl asked.

"Because now I have a friend. Somebody to talk to, right?"

Daryl blinked. What was happening? He wasn't sure but he liked it.

"Yeah," He agreed, carefully. "A friend."


End file.
